Bath Time
by Lee Lee Potter
Summary: Harry recovers a memory of young Severus Snape in the bath. Snarry. Harry is very young in his memory, but since nothing sexual actually happens, I'm NOT going to call this chan.


Harry has a regressed memory of Severus in the bath having a wank

Summary: Harry recovers a memory of young Severus Snape in the bath.

It was a hot summer night when a young boy awoke in an unfamiliar bed. The bed was comfortable and though it smelled of cats, the mattress wasn't lumpy and the sheets were clean. His family, having left for a week-long beach holiday, had left him in the care of a neighbor. The fullness of his bladder alerted the boy as to why he was awake at such a late hour. The house was dark and quiet with the exception of a large cat which was stretched across the foot of his bed, purring contentedly. The boy wasn't fond of that particular cat as it had taken to attacking his toes whenever he moved about on the bed to find a comfortable sleeping position. Those claws were sharp! Sometimes they woke him up from a deep sleep, feeling like he had just been hit with a strong electric jolt – but there was no keeping the creature off the bed – it knew this was its house, and Harry just a short-term interloper.

Padding out into the hall in an overlarge tee-shirt and pair of baggy y-fronts, the boy found the door to the loo to be closed. He listened for sounds, but couldn't hear anything, not even the clock in there that usually ticked rather loudly. Normally, at his own home, he'd have knocked, but the boy had found out, rather embarrassingly, that Mrs. Figg took the plastic things out of her ears at night, and then she couldn't hear so well. Though honestly, he thought it made no sense that the old woman could hear better with her ears all stopped up like that. He continued further down the hall to hear the muffled snores coming from Mrs. Figg's bedroom and decided it was safe to use the loo as no one else was in the house besides a lot of cats.

An unexpected sweetish fragrance wafted around and enveloped him when he opened the door and stepped in to the little room. The boy gasped at the sight of an unknown man taking a bath. He had unusually long hair, the kind Uncle Vernon would have scoffed at. His legs were long and didn't fit all the way in the tub, his knees sticking up out of the water. One large, long-fingered hand was holding an odd looking fag, there was a largish dark tattoo on that forearm, and the other was leisurely stroking his cock. The boy coughed in the haze of smoke that filled the small room.

"Who are you?" the boy tugged on the hem of his shirt, ensuring that it covered his pants. The action caused the neck of the tee to expose one thin, sunkissed shoulder.

Had the man not been enjoying his light buzz, he might have commented on the rudeness of little boys. "I'm here to make sure the boogie man doesn't get you," he said under his breath, finding the truth ironic in the extreme.

"Aunt Petunia said you're going to Hell," the boy stated, his eyes seeming to be mesmerized by the sheer size of the grown man's member.

"Without a doubt," the man looked amused by the boy's comment and took a long drag from the wrinkled looking fag. "I was unaware your aunt spoke to you about me, or for that matter, anything regarding the magical world."

"Magic?" the boy's eyes grew comically wide and then he quickly covered his mouth as if he'd been caught saying a bad word. "Is that magic - what you're doing?" his eyes lingered on the man's cock.

"It is if you do it right."

"I'm not allowed to do magic," his tone wistful. "I… er… don't think Aunt Petunia was talking about _you_, just maybe people in general. She said only evil boys touch themselves there when they're not washing," he looked over to the untouched bar of soap, perhaps looking for the man's redemption but finding none.

"What you do with your body or your magic when you're alone is none of your aunt's business," the man sounded more serious for a moment and Harry wanted to believe him, even if he knew this couldn't be so.

"But you're not all alone."

"Hence my hellacious future."

"What?"

"Never mind. I was alone before you so rudely barged in here," despite the harsh words, the man didn't seem all that upset by Harry's presence.

"Oh, sorry. I hav'ta pee. I listened at the door, but there were no sounds," he looked up at the clock, noticing that he could clearly hear the ticking now. "I'll wait until you finish," he added quickly and turned to leave.

"My eventual burning for all eternity aside, I do not find looking at small boys to be conducive to" he paused, glancing down at his cock, "magic making."

"What?" the boy had taken to squeezing his hands between his legs to keep from having an accident.

"What I meant was that I will not be finished here for a while, so, be my guest," he gestured to the toilet. "Unless you prefer to relieve yourself on the floor, in which case I suggest you do so in another room."

He was unsure of how he felt about peeing in front of another person, but his bladder was too full to be overly concerned. The boy reasoned that the man had had no problem bathing in front of him and hadn't been worried about covering his bits, so he was going to be grown up about this and relieve himself.

The many conflicts in his mind regarding propriety had not kept the boy from staring at the man. It was hard to imagine he'd ever grow so much. Even the one time he'd accidentally seen his uncle undressed, the man's tummy had hung down too far to have seen any private bits he might have hiding underneath. It was however to his great relief that the man in the tub wasn't watching as he peed.

"Will mine get much bigger?" he dared ask.

"Judging by the arrogance of your father, you will most likely not be disappointed."

"What?"

"You'll get much bigger."

"Oh… all right then. Bye," he said with a wave, getting a nod in return. The boy paused at the door a moment before adding, "Will you be here in the morning?"

"I've been here all week, you just haven't seen me," he said, and then blew a smoke ring in the air.

The boy nodded, seemingly lost in thought. "He has red eyes, I think."

"Who does?" the man asked, thinking the boy was referring to the cat that had come in to get a drink from the dripping faucet.

"The boogie man."

Oh. "That he does."

''

Sitting in an exam room in the Auror training facility Harry shook his head, unbelieving what he had just remembered. Members of the Order of the Phoenix had assured him that today's exam was merely part of policy and he had nothing to worry about, since they'd already checked to see if he'd had any memory modifications done to him in the past.

Two hours later, the Boy Who Continues to Live stormed out of the Ministry psychiatrist's office in a huff. Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt joined him on the lift, hoping to calm the young man. Others had been waiting, but chose to wait for the next lift when they saw the look on Harry's face.

"You have to understand their reasoning for the policy. New memories, whether unconsciously forgotten and newly recalled or regained by Oblivation reversals, are all taken into consideration."

"So because of this new memory, they think my judgment may be impaired regarding Death Eaters – that somehow I may be favorably disposed towards them in general? That's ludicrous!"

"There's simply no way of telling if there are other memories you may have deeply buried. You simply forgot this one; the results indicated it was not truly repressed, it was too easily recovered for that. The experience just somehow didn't rank high enough emotionally to be repressed, or bother you enough to be remembered. They thought either one of those reactions would be understandable, but that you had so calmly accepted it that it didn't really register… You can't deny that your current lifestyle is swaying their decision."

"Yeah, I know." Harry said dismally. "Did you ever see a naked man in the bath?"

"Before or after I was ten?" he asked with a smirk. "OK, yes." He admitted, still grinning.

"So by that one admission, we can conclude that your having seen a man in a bathtub made you gay," stated Harry, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"Ah, but my memory wasn't repressed. And I'm not gay, I'm bisexual."

"Really?" Harry raised his brows suggestively and shook his head again, remembering he was supposed to be mad. "Why didn't they do the psychological test first, before I struggled through three weeks of physical endurance preliminaries?"

"Because you were in the hospital during the psychiatric evaluations for your group and they decided to let the rules slide for the Great Harry Potter and let you do the physical aspect first instead of waiting until the next group started."

"I um, forgot about that part," Harry admitted sheepishly. "So, there's no chance of me starting in the training program to be an Auror?" his face was impassive, keeping eye contact with the taller Kingsley.

"Harry," he said regretfully and put a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "There were already several issues they were willing to overlook due to your status, but, between us, the additional information that was revealed in this evaluation, both about your childhood and some of the things Albus had kept quiet, had already been enough for them to make a decision. The memory was just the final straw added to an already dead horse."

Harry couldn't help himself, and laughed at the mixed metaphor. "So you don't think it'd have mattered if I argued my case some more?" he asked, wanting to verify that he'd done all he could have done. It was no surprise to see Kingsley shake his head no.

"If it's any consolation, I'd rather be your friend than your boss."

"Thanks Kings."

''

It was the next morning, right after breakfast, when a copy of the Daily Prophet was slammed down on Severus Snape's desk.

"Weekend edition!" snarled Harry Potter, jabbing a finger at the headline, which read,

'HARRY POTTER'S DREAMS ARE CRUSHED AS NEWLY RECOVERED CHILDHOOD MEMORIES OF DEATH EATER ACTIVITY PREVENTS HIS ENTRY INTO AUROR TRAINING'

'Mr. Potter was too distraught to comment on the latest drama that strikes another blow to the boy's mental stability.'

"Told you so," Severus said mildly, as if he'd predicted the sun would shine on this bright Saturday morn.

"What?" It occurred to Harry that his vocabulary hadn't improved much since his childhood. "Do you even have a clue as to which memory they're referring?!"

"Not a clue, but you've been bitching for two weeks about not knowing how to tell Ron that you didn't want to be an Auror anymore and _I_ told you not to worry, that it would work itself out. You see, _I told you so_."

"Did you score any weed last night?" asked Harry smoothly, as if he hadn't just stormed into his lover's office. The smirk Severus wore was a welcome sight. "Good, I'll go run us a bath."

Severus tossed the paper into the fire, warded the door and quickly caught up to his young lover.

Fin


End file.
